Naomi
by StinkyLizard
Summary: Mommy, where do baby dragons come from? /Long live Naomi glitch 2k16


As dragons, our ancestors were warriors. They bore golden shields, plated armor, and sang ancient war songs of the gods as they fought maliciously, claw against claw and tooth against tooth. The status of exaltation in the realm Sornieth is the highest honor one can achieve. Those who travel to fight fire with fire are revered for their strength and courage as they haul forward with scars upon their scales and still-rotting flesh upon their horns.  
They are never to be seen again.  
All are welcomed to the war. The young, the old, the rare, the common. Some wander onto the field already blind, age chipping away at their morality, while others peer curiously at the blood and suffering among them, making their first impressions of the world.  
They say that when a dragon dies, their soul will ascend to the skies, taking flight and joining in harmonious salvation with its brethren. The souls of the evil will be reborn again, forever repeating the cycle of life until the scales of the Heaven's have decided the soul was light enough to be carried to the clouds. The biggest trick ever played upon dragonkind was the lie that there was another option.  
There is no such thing as war in Sornieth. The only thing that flies above the clouds is a vast and unyielding darkness. And the deep eyes of one we will call Naomi.  
"Oh no no, that simply will not do!" Her small voice mused, cutting through the chill air of the Starfall Isles, where she made her domain.  
"What happened?" A voice asked, disoriented and confused. He was a small Guardian dragon, no more than three days old. His yellow eyes seemed betrayed as he took in his unfamiliar surroundings, and Naomi noticed his expression.  
"What shame. Such pretty colors, too." The Fae fluttered around him, reaching out a claw to look under his wing here and there.  
"Where am I?" He asked, still staring. The room was wondrously huge, and it seemed friendly enough. Through the glass window, stars could be seen in the sky and the sight of a looming sea seemed to glare back at him from far below the tower. There was a low, unnerving and uneven hum in the air. It must be magic.  
"You are safe now." She whispered, and something about her eyes told him that she had no sincerity in her words, as if she were reciting a poem from memory. "What is your name?"  
Slowly, the boy answered, "Solis."  
"Common."  
"Can I go home now?"  
"Your home didn't want you!" Naomi snapped as she flared, and the male flinched back.  
Her face dropped again, the ruffles around her head going back to normal. "No, deary, I mean.. you are home now."  
Solis smelled something strange in the air around him, something deeper than this Fae's personality. And when he realized, it was the familiar smell of bluelipped thresh.  
The small sound of Naomi's claws clicking on the white stone of the floor broke through the hum as she circled him, taking in every color and every scale.  
"Who are you?" Solis questioned nervously.  
"Naomi." The glint of tools were uncovered as her wing swiped away a cloth. Some glinted in silver and looked sharp enough to cut clean through air. Others were blunt things made of bone or something else entirely. It was hard to tell before the small dragon fluttered down towards the Guardian and raked her claws down his chest, drawing clear lines of blood on his young chest. Her grin became wide as the hatchling's eyes grew with terror. He backed away against the door, scrambling for an exit as the air burned his wound.  
"Red suits you," She said, and her voice was close behind his wings. "Too bad your tertiary is a disgusting blue." With emphasis on this color, she again tore into him, ripping a hole in his left wing as he rushed out of the great oak door in a flurry of dragon and blood.  
He ran as fast as he could, his wings not working from the pain and his breath shallow from the strife. He followed the winding staircase down to the source of the hum.  
When Solis emerged into a small room lit by orbs on the walls, he found the first thing to duck his small body behind, which happened to be a glass tank in which floated small, pastel orbs the color of his skin. There he crouched, and panted, and waited. Hot blood silently dipped from his wing onto the stone floor. Wing wounds always bleed the worst.  
"Best friend, where are you?" Naomi gigged from down the hall, and Solis saw her pass the doorway… and then pause. Her body jerked violently to one side, and suddenly she was in the corner, staring at the wall. She blinked again, out of space for a second, and relocated across from the glass. She seemed to be in a trance.  
When she was gone again and terror returned to his bones, Solis slunk down behind the glass, his wings lowered.  
Like lightning, a searing pain like a hot knife shot through his skull as a horn was ripped backward, dangling from his flesh by a thread. A pitiful growl left his throat, more like a call to a mother dragon than a threat, and Naomi smiled in response.  
"Slippery one, aren't you?" She taunted, and as the words left her mouth, Solis scrambled onward, slipping in his own blood as he helplessly tried swatting the Fae.  
Together they smashed into the glass, shards sticking into skin and under scales. Naomi shrieked in pain, stepping upon the fragile shards with her small feet. The water that was inside rushed out, soaking them all, burning his cuts and making his skin feel cold.  
She seemed to grow in his vision, and so did the orbs, which floated around her in an anxious flurry of light. They slowly dimmed, taking the shape of dragons and bones. The hum was overwhelming. It made him feel sick.  
They rushed into him at once, swarming him, filling him with their light. However, it did not feel like light at all.  
They tore into his flesh, but he did not bleed. He did not feel anything. He had no emotions from his memories, his dreams, or his thoughts. He was nothing while they were inside of him.  
And when they swarmed out again, returning to their circle around Naomi, they held a smaller light that was wound and wound together until it created a bundle of gold. A small, bright, shining egg. It was soon lost among the souls of the dead.  
Solis collapsed upon the floor.  
"Always the young ones," Naomi commented, her voice cracking like a fire.  
The blood was blocking his vision. He choked on it, spit it out, choked again.  
It was a strange feeling, not having a soul. Of all the pain a dragon could suffer, this would be the worst. Of all the pain in the world, it is the one that is so painful that one would give up on trying to feel anything at all. That death itself is wanted, you can smell the end.  
But it doesn't. It continues onward, like a horse pulling a cart until the muscles have become dust and the bones nothing but sticks of marrow. And even then, the ghost is will enough to keep moving. It is a feeling of utter hopelessness.  
Solis watched as that she-demon rose into the air, suffering spirits following about her like hair down a well. Her eyes became blocky and flickering, and the light they emitted seemed not of this world. She became a ghost. The faintness of it all was overwhelmingly horrid. There was a low-pitched screeching in the air as numbers flashed by like stars. They seemed transparent and flickering.  
"Is this what death feels like?" He asked, barely noticing that the question was audible. His last breath was shaky and painful as it burned his lungs from the inside.  
"Imbecile," Naomi mused. Her voice was electric. "I am death!"


End file.
